


𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨 🁡 𝐸𝑛𝑑𝑔𝑎𝑚𝑒

by Adrenalineshots, sonshineandshowers, TheFibreWitch



Series: Domino 🁡 [55]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Digital Art, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief, Hallucinations, Harassment, Health Emergency, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Loss, Mental Health Issues, Metafiction, Murder Mystery, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Sad, Surrealism, Trauma, Unreliable Narrator, Video, a lot of really strange stuff that happens in altered states of consciousness, anxiousness, canon minor character death, no happy ending in sight, reader-driven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:47:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26506174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrenalineshots/pseuds/Adrenalineshots, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFibreWitch/pseuds/TheFibreWitch
Summary: Selecting 𝐸𝑛𝑑𝑔𝑎𝑚𝑒 from the bookshelf, Malcolm travels through his own mind.Read this story at:https://www.thedominostory.com/#endgameThis book is one of three possible endings of the Domino series. If you are not ready to read an ending, please choose another book from theBookshelf.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Jessica Whitly
Series: Domino 🁡 [55]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926451
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1
Collections: Domino 🁡, Prodigal Son Big Bang 2020 - Saturday Posts





	𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨 🁡 𝐸𝑛𝑑𝑔𝑎𝑚𝑒

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jameena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameena/gifts), [MissScorp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/gifts), [ProcrastinatingSab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Endgame](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/685450) by Samuel Beckett. 



> ####  **This is one of three possible endings. If you are not ready to read an ending, please turn back now. :)**
> 
> This book is one part of the Domino series. If you have not yet read the [Preface](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64577434#workskin) or [Introduction](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64588537#workskin), please head there first.
> 
> Betaed by the wonderful [Jameena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameena/), [MissScorp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/), and [ProcrastinatingSab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/).
> 
> Credit to the creators and their works that inspired and were referenced in this work:  
>  **— Inspiration:**[Endgame](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Endgame_\(play\)) \- Samuel Beckett  
>  **— Cover Song:**[Bohemian Rhapsody](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fJ9rUzIMcZQ) \- Queen

[](https://www.thedominostory.com/images/full/endgame.jpg) |   
---|---  
  
The pages are all blank.

There are reams of paper looking down at Gil for all of the years he expected to spend with the kid. Stacks that tower over him, leaving them in shadows. All of the light slips from the room. It’s not Jackie on the other side of Malcolm this time but Jessica. Somewhere in his mind is a recognition of growth that their family has evolved yet again.

The three of them lay in silence. There aren’t any arguments, no prattling about why Malcolm shouldn’t work for the NYPD or how he’s yet again caring for his parakeet better than himself. No aggravation over failing to call for backup or stringing out several days of no sleep. The fact is he had the entire team for backup and took the biggest sleep of his life.

It still wasn’t enough.

Gil isn’t sure whether it’s his frame or Jessica’s that is shaking the hospital bed or if it is the combined effect of their desolation causing an earthquake that’ll level New York. They don’t exactly fit, arms and legs both clinging to the man between them and the bed and half hanging off in some haphazard counterbalance that threatens to topple them if they let go.

If they let go, the dominoes will fall and Malcolm will truly be gone. As long as they hold tight, he’s still there, a slowly cooling body between his parents, their warmth slowing the process.

No one should have to lose a child. Of all the times they could have lost Malcolm, Gil doesn’t think this is the worst one. There’s nothing special about it, nothing that could have said ‘danger, this scene is deadly.’ Not that any scene ever has that as prominently displayed as the crime scene tape whipping as it invites them inside. The more dangerous scenes are the ones that seem normal, tempt their guards to lower, then strike when no one expects. A beach house in Sea Gate, no suspects on scene. Tranquil waves drifting to shore, an inquisitive profiler drifting away. Silence when the kid’s in the other room.

Malcolm’s features are relaxed, as peaceful as Gil has ever seen them. They’ve been that way for several days, even as coma tipped to organ failure. Even with irreversible damage, ‘I’m fine’ stayed plastered across his face, whispered back at them as he took his last breaths.

Gil doesn’t know how long they’ve been laying with Malcolm, holding him in a way they’d never been able to do together in life. The nurse had said they could take whatever time they needed, but how long was enough time to account for sixty more years of filling pages with new memories?

When Jackie died, Malcolm had been there, done everything to help Gil get through and keep going. Brought him food when he couldn’t get out of bed, steered him to the shower when it had been too many days, made sure he didn’t drink to the point of no return, went for a walk together when he thought of her and could only cry. Who would do that now? Neither he nor Jessica are in any position to do anything but hold their kid.

Jessica’s hand reaches over and squeezes Gil’s upper arm, holds on to him as tight as she holds her son. He returns the gesture, reaching a little further across Malcolm for her arm, and somehow they all remain balanced on the bed. “I need to call Ainsley,” she says, her voice rough. “I think you need to call your team.”

He attempts to put words together that all come out in a garbled sob.

“Give me your phone — I’ll call,” she instructs, and when he doesn’t move, slides her hand down to his pants pocket to take it for him.

He wants to tell her she doesn’t have to, that he’ll figure it out. That he can pull himself together enough to say the words “he’s dead,” and they’ll know who he’s talking about and figure out the rest. That he’s got her.

He gives a slight nod instead and burrows his face in Malcolm’s shoulder, sliding further down the bed. Jessica doesn’t follow, so he ends up holding her hip as she calls her daughter. Her words are simple, lacking any trace of the depth of emotion flooding the room. “It’s over.”

He wonders whether Ainsley’s reaction looks like either of theirs or if it’s another beast entirely. If Luisa is the only one there who can provide her any comfort. If she would have wanted to be with Malcolm had there been enough time to rush her to the hospital when everything plummeted downhill.

“He’s gone,” Jessica says, drawing Gil’s attention. “You can come down if you want to see him before they take him away. You’re his friends. Maybe his only ones.”

Would they come? Would Malcolm want them to come? Would he be disappointed if they didn’t? Does Gil even want to let anyone else into the room? He holds Malcolm a little tighter as if someone is threatening to take him away.

“It’s done,” she informs him.

Malcolm’s life is done.

Jessica leans up on her elbow and runs her hand across her cheeks. It doesn’t do much to remove any of the tears, but it seems to give her a moment to collect herself. “Jess — “ Gil says, reaching for her.

“I need to get up. I can’t stay like this.” She pulls away from his hand and stands, swaying a little bit, but finding her balance by grabbing the edge of the bed. Maintaining her own center by herself, as she’s come to learn in the world.

“I can’t — “

“You don’t have to.” She rounds the end of the bed and stands behind Gil, hugging his shoulders and placing a kiss to his neck. “I just can’t sit anymore.”

Her perfume reaches his nose and her soft fingers run along his arm. She’s comforting _him_ when he should be comforting her. _Should_ , a dangerous word that sends up a red flag in his mind for setting an expectation of her feelings when she already stated her own. If she’s saying what she needs, maybe he can take what he needs, her comfort, her support, a little bit longer. He needs the kid around longer. Needs —

“How long did you stay?” she asks quietly. “After.”

He assumes she means after Jackie passed away. That had been different, at home, all the time in the world to mourn before the hearse arrived, as if there could ever be enough. He has no idea how long, only that Malcolm had eventually pulled him away and held him, telling him he didn’t need to watch her taken away. He watched anyway. It was his responsibility. Just like the kid is his responsibility — he’s staying. He shakes his head, not having anything to offer her.

“We can stay as long as you need.”

He can’t ignore the voice that says he should be the one telling her that. Her son’s dead.

His kid’s dead, too. He doesn’t have an argument. She may have known him a little longer, given birth to him, but they’re the same degree of family.

It’s devastating. There’s no way to paint it in any other light. All brightness is gone from the room, only a husk left behind.

Jessica leans over him and brushes her son’s hair, the greasy strands uncharacteristic, unfamiliar. Every once in a while, her fingers dip to Gil’s face, rub his forehead, then they move back up again. Gil drifts, there and not, missing and returned, remembered and forgotten, hazy and aware of everything and nothing at the same time...

Unknown time, the three of them huddled in the last glimpse of their family.

* * *

"This is so personal," Dani says, unsure of how to proceed. She and JT linger outside of the sliding doors to Bright's hospital room, wary of looking inside. She doesn't want to be there, legs threatening to turn around and race away from the hospital, yet at the same time, she knows she must be. Gil needs them. Bright's mother needs them. They need to do whatever they can to help them in this time of need. "One of us at a time?"

JT shifts, his wrists crossing in front of his stomach. "Do you want to, or — "

"I can go to start." She thinks back to Jackie's funeral and how out of sorts Gil had been, needing to be guided around. "It might take both of us to get them home."

"I'll wait right here. Just call for me. You don't need to do all of this yourself." JT’s stoicism has tipped toward grief, quietly revealed in a more exaggerated frown, no upturn to his features.

Dani nods and steels herself with a deep breath. She turns and slides open the door before she loses her courage. "Dani," Jessica says as Dani slides the door closed behind her.

They're both crouched over a bed that is too still, too vacant to be Bright. Gil's buried in Bright's side — only Jessica's face is visible as she looks up toward her. Dani snaps out of her temporary pause and walks across the room, keeping her gaze on Jessica.

"Thank you for coming."

Dani nods and purses her lips. What does one say when one's child is dead beside them? _I'm sorry_ doesn't begin to cut it. There aren’t any words that could bring comfort to any of them. She stays quiet instead.

"You can look at him, dear — he's sure not going to bite now," Jessica says, part scoff, part wit.

Dani flinches and looks to the side. She only needs to turn her head a few more inches and tip her chin down to see Bright. Inches that feel like a tightrope across with a chasm below. Impassable. Death certain.

She won't get another chance.

This knowledge brings her to move her head, to meet the skin of Bright's forehead. Sweat and days unwashed have his hair in greasy ruinous clumps over his face, strewn back against his pillow. His skin carries the same oily sheen, something she's never seen on him. He needs a good cleaning, a long shower with the softest soap to restore him to his typical self. To bring him back to them.

As if a shower could wake the dead.

Her eyes continue down to his closed eyes, along his nose, to his mouth, all of his brightness and exuberance gone. He's peaceful, somehow — a relaxation she's never seen on his tired body. He's at ease, yet in death, he still looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes following him on into the afterlife. A mask that signifies _this is Bright, take him_.

What in the hell is she supposed to say right now? Jessica appears to expect something, her eyes visibly watching on out of the corner of Dani's eyes, but Dani can't figure out what. This is such a personal thing, the last thing she can do for Bright, and she’s messing it up.

"Sometimes it helps for closure if you talk. Hold his hand," Jessica suggests.

Death is cold is Dani's father laying in a casket, his face on display for an entire community, is so many things that are not Bright. It was years ago, yet right now at the same time, a procession of people hugging her, her mother… Her thoughts race on, yet her hand moves of its own accord and latches on to Bright's.

It's not cold yet. Edrisa would run the calculations of how much his body temperature would drop per hour until it reaches the ambient temperature of the room, but it hasn't happened. She doesn't feel his heart racing to pump blood to his fingers or his hand trembling in fear, but he doesn't feel like he's fully disappeared either. He's kinda sorta there. In a she needs to clasp onto something to make it through getting them home sort of way.

"We figured it out, Bright." Her words are tentative, wavering hold on emotion bleeding into them. "He's going down for this. For you and Veronica." CSU had confirmed the presence of scopolamine on the book pages, and unis had uncovered an operation to render henbane into the debilitating drug at the greenhouse. They were about to go arrest Gary M. Goodman when they'd gotten the call.

 _The_ call.

The call that one count of murder would be two. Over a dispute of recognition for being a ghostwriter, delusions of romantic interest, and money. Bright is dead because he was curious and stuck his nose in a book, inhaling the poison straight from the pages.

Bright is dead.

Her breaths come faster, unable to fully expand her chest. Panic pushes out the oxygen, leaving her lightheaded. "You're okay," Jessica says, setting her hand on top of Dani's. "Breathe slowly with me."

Nothing's okay. They spent Bright's last days solving a case, part of her brain justifying the activity thinking they could improve his treatment. Thinking they were doing something when in reality, they had avoided spending time with him.

The only time they had.

Dani pulls her hand away from Jessica's and wipes her face, stopping a tear from hitting her cheek. "I'm sorry." A slight step back reminds her Gil's inconsolable, curled into Malcolm. She looks from Gil to Jessica, Gil to Jessica again.

She can do this. She needs to figure out how to because these are his parents — they had a closer relationship. She needs to help them, not the other way around.

"Gil," her voice trembles, so she takes a deep breath to steady herself. "Gil." She rests a hand on his shoulder.

"We need to let him go." Jessica says the words Dani can't bring herself to say. The words don’t seem to have any effect, Gil remaining still.

She's never seen Gil like this. With Jackie, she'd seen him several days after, then the lingering depression of grief that lasted years. His sorrow would reemerge in conversation, sometimes when even he didn't expect it, then disappear as if nothing happened. He needed space, people he could share occasional stories with when he was up for it, friends who knew when to provide escape from the topic.

This Gil, frozen with grief nary an hour after Bright's death — she doesn't know what to do.

"Gil," Jessica repeats.

Dani reaches over to his shoulder and rubs his sweater. Jessica does the same to his face and caresses his cheek. It's intimate, all four of them in such a tight proximity as they try to rouse him, pull him back to the living. "Gil, we're going to go home," Jessica says into his ear.

Gil shifts and one of his eyes opens, bloodshot from the amount of tears that have passed through his lids. "Dani?" escapes his throat, but it comes out a garbled mess.

"We're going to help you get home," Dani explains. Somehow, someway because she can barely recognize the man looking back at her. He’s fragile, yet he’s already been dropped, shattered into thousands of jagged edges that can’t find their way back together.

"It's time to go, Gil," Jessica repeats. Dani can't tell if Jessica is looking out for Gil or if she emotionally can't stay there any longer. Jessica’s nearly as put together as she’s ever seen, even her makeup holding up under the traces of tears. Dani can’t see her anguish, but she knows firsthand that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

 _That’s your mother, help her_ , her neighbor had said. That’s Bright’s parents, help them. _Help_.

Gil takes a deep breath in, smells Bright’s neck, and squeezes his shoulder one last time. “I love you, kid.” He turns away and ventures a foot onto the floor. Robotic as if he’s feeling every year of his age and then some. She almost hears the creak as he stands.

His legs don’t hold him, the precarious dominoes knocking together in slow motion and tumbling toward the floor. Jessica grabs around his chest to keep him from falling to his knees, but her face is strained with the effort, her arms getting pulled like they could drop at any moment. Dani rushes to help keep him upright, but even with the two of them, they can’t bear his weight in that position. “JT!” Dani calls toward the hall, and Gil’s head snaps up, startled.

 _Shit_ , as much as they need the help, she probably shouldn’t have done that. JT comes racing in, eyes wide, and it only takes him a second to assess the situation and move to their boss’ side, taking Dani’s place and hefting his arm under Gil’s shoulder to balance Jessica’s hold. “We should go straight for the car,” Jessica says. “I can call — “

“I’ll drive you,” JT says. He drops his head to where Gil’s is hunched over. “Gil, you okay to walk with me?”

“Yeah,” comes a quiet reply.

“Can you go with them?” Jessica asks Dani. “I’d like a minute.”

Dani replaces Jessica’s hold on the other side of Gil, and the three of them make a haphazard unit. It’ll be slow going, but hopefully Gil can stay steady enough to make it to the SUV. She catches JT looking at the bed, mouth moving a little, but without sound escaping his lips, she can’t interpret what he’s saying. His eyes close a moment, lips still moving, then he briefly squeezes Bright’s hand and lets go. He looks to her over Gil’s head, eyes asking if she’s ready to move. She nods.

They start walking, and Gil’s feet pick up the familiar motion, more shuffling scuffs than his typical gait. She doesn’t know if he’s cognizant of where they’re going or if he feels anything at all in his numbness of loss.

She doesn’t quite know if she feels anything either.

Holding each other together, they make the long trek to the SUV.

* * *

Her son looks nothing like she’s ever seen him, not a bit of energy zinging through his frame. Jessica wishes he was able to find that level of peace in life, somewhere beneath all of the trauma and obstacles he’d encountered, the challenges he’d faced. Her choices meant he did not.

She’ll never forgive herself. For what, exactly, she’s not sure, but she’s fairly certain her choice to marry Dr. Martin Whitly has something to do with it. But if she hadn’t done that, he wouldn’t exist either, so she’s not entirely sure where her fault starts.

It doesn’t end in death.

“I’m sorry.” She brushes her son’s face, runs her fingers along his beard line one last time. There are countless things to apologize for, but their specificity is lost with her child before her. Sitting on the side of the bed, she takes up the space Gil had occupied and hugs Malcolm’s chest in the type of hug she hadn’t given him enough times. This time, he can’t complain, can’t push her away, and perhaps it’s better that way.

“The memorial will be nice. A gathering of your friends and us,” she explains. Focusing on the next task keeps her moving, keeps her functional in a space where she could be forever frozen in time. “And off to science like you wanted. I don’t entirely understand that fascination, but I’m not going to go against your wishes on this. The flowers — there will be flowers.”

Her son wasn’t always right about everything. She would show her love for him with blooms, beauty sprouting from the decay. “Goodbye, sunshine.” She kisses his forehead. “We’ll see you soon.”

Pulling herself from the bed, she looks him over and squeezes his hand a final time, straightens her clothes, and leaves the room. Stopping to tell the nurse they can take him now, they’re through, she continues toward the parking lot to meet up with the rest of them.

* * *

The entire drive to Gil’s is silent. JT thought Jessica would want to go to her home, but she surprised him and requested Gil’s. The two of them sit in the back seat together, she holding him to her shoulder, while JT drives for Gil’s.

In the passenger seat, Dani looks out the window. She matches the quiet of the car, yet her face glimmers in the reflection of the window. He leaves her alone, none of them fit for conversation.

In the few moments he had at his bedside, he told Bright he would miss his chatty ass. Gave him a silent prayer for peaceful travels. Asked that he'd look out for all of them, especially Gil.

It's too quiet without him. Too reminiscent of when one of his fellow soldiers didn't return, the silence after the piercing cry of anguish that lives in his bones. JT gave Bright the same moment, the same respect that he'd given all of them and promised to take care of his family.

His family that is huddled together in that vehicle, close while their thoughts are miles away. His family that will forever be missing a son, a kid, a friend. The one and only Bright. The bridge too far that he crossed to the other side.

He almost misses the turn down Gil's street. Taking the corner harder than he intended to, Dani shoots him a glance and he offers a quiet, "Sorry."

Sorry he couldn’t do more. Sorry there isn’t anything he can offer beyond driving them home, and he can’t even do that flawlessly. Sorry he’s thinking about something so trivial when there was a far greater casualty that day. Stepping out of the car, he leaves the sorries behind — they won’t assuage their grief.

They get Jessica and Gil inside without issue and tell them they'll check in tomorrow. That they should call if they need anything in the meantime. And begin the drive into the street.

JT's not entirely sure where they're going, whether he should drop Dani off at home and go home to his wife or if either of them have lost it enough to attempt going back to the precinct. They were already working while their friend was dying, so going back afterward doesn’t feel like that far of a stretch. Feels like a tribute to the profiler, even. He also knows it’s a terrible idea that he’d never hear the end of.

"Head for Brooklyn," Dani says after a few minutes.

He gives her a questioning glance, trying to figure out what's on her mind, but she curls her knees up to her chest and stares out the window.

"Can I text Tally?"

"Yeah. What's your plan?"

"We're gonna throw axes."

 _You can't be serious_ is the first thing that shoots through his head, but he's well-versed in the many different displays of grief. It’s a healthy coping mechanism, and he’ll have his wife, so he can’t complain. Dani has no one to go home to, and he’s not about to leave her alone if she’s requesting company.

"We never did get to take him," he comments. There had been a few more ‘crashes’ of pool outings that he invited him to and drinks after work, but they never went to Bright’s choice of event. He wonders why that was, why the man had been content doing whatever they wanted all the time.

"No. It's the best thing I can come up with." Dani sighs.

"I'll see if Tally can drive us home. Otherwise we'll Lyft and I'll pick up the SUV tomorrow."

"Can I ask what you told him? Back there?"

"You saw?"

"Yeah."

He didn't intend that to be seen, doesn't want to share, but maybe it'll help her to. "That he mattered. And we'd miss his chatty ass," he adds with a chuckle, hiding the strong pull toward tears at the back of his throat. Now’s not the time — he needs to get them to their destination in one piece.

"I told him about the case," she says, a deep breath and a sob clipping the end of her words. "We worked the damn case instead of spending time with him."

It’s something he’s mulled over and over himself. "We did our jobs."

“We didn’t do enough.”

"There is _nothing_ we could have done differently to end in a different outcome." He would have tried it if there was. Would have done anything to prevent this. This awful twist in his stomach, watching everyone grieve around him — he would have prevented it. He would have. There’s nothing. Nothing left that will save Bright.

"We could have noticed he was missing. That he went off on his own."

"That's on him. He does that all the time." 

"We could have figured out the poison faster."

"Would have been the exact same treatment." Dani remains quiet a moment, thinking, so he adds, "We can't play what if."

"What if he lived?" Her glassy eyes look toward him, threatening to shed more tears to join the smudged tracks on her cheeks.

"We don't get alternate endings. Just one chance to make the best of it." He knows it’s not a comfort, but it’s the reality he steps into every day he goes to work.

"I want a redo," she grumbles.

Staring through the windshield, he looks for any trace of Bright in the highrises, the streets, the sidewalks. Nothing.

 _For you_ , Bright’s voice echoes in his mind, handing out a lollipop.

He keeps it this time.

* * *

A voice in the distance brightens the skyline, “We’re gonna be okay.”

It’s the end — there isn’t anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Head back to the [Bookshelf](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64588570#workskin) to pick another ending or head to the [Closing Video & Credits](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64588612#workskin). :)


End file.
